When his knot finally releases, I'm reluctant to move. But the offspring are active, kicking and shifting, demanding attention. I press my hand to my belly, feeling them respond to touch.
“Active today,” I observe.
“Know their mother is being bred. Offspring recognize mating sounds, respond to hormones.”
“Really?”
“Maybe.” He pulls me against his chest, both of us lying in the furs while rain pounds above. “Or maybe just active because growing strong.”
We lie together through the storm's peak, his hand on my belly feeling the offspring move. Sometimes they kick hard enough to see from outside, my skin distorting with the force of it. Each time makes him purr with satisfaction, proud of what we've created.
Eight families safe now. Hadad's kids, Kowalczyk's baby - they'll all get what they need. Death benefits paid because I took the deal instead of court martial. Mission accomplished.
“You think of before,” Zkari observes. He's learned to read my silences.
“Sometimes.”
“Regret?”
“No. Did what I came to do. Saved who I needed to save.” I trace the scars on his chest. “Just happened to find something for myself too.”
“Female came for others?”
“Came because I had to. Stayed because I chose to.”
He purrs at that, understanding choice even if he doesn't understand Earth's complexity.
“Twenty-three days since shadow cats,” I mention, moving past the topic.
“Good fight,” he agrees, finding my matching scars. “Female fought well. Killed clean.”
“We fought well together.”
“Yes. Will teach offspring to fight same way.”
The thought of teaching our children to hunt shadow cats should worry me. Instead, it makes me smile. They'll be born into this world, will know no other. Half-human, half-Vorthak, something entirely new.
“Need you again,” I tell him, feeling emptiness despite having been knotted three times already today.
“Demanding female,” he says, but his cocks are already emerging.
This time we mate slow and careful, face to face, watching each other. The storm passes as his knot locks inside me for the fourth time today. Not unusual anymore. Sometimes we mate five or six times, unable to get enough of each other.
“Portal closed by now,” he mentions as his seed fills me.
“Good. Hate interruptions.”
He laughs again, cock pulsing harder. We both know I never considered leaving. The portal was just a formality, a deadline that meant nothing. My choice was made when I entered his territory. Everything since has been confirmation.
The afternoon stretches into evening with us alternating between mating and resting. My body never truly satisfied,always wanting more of him. His knot, his seed, his presence. The offspring seem to calm when we're locked together, as if they recognize their father's presence through the breeding.
“Tomorrow we hunt,” he tells me as darkness falls. “Female needs fresh meat.”
“Female needs cock first,” I correct, already reaching for him again.
“Always,” he agrees, moving between my legs. “Female always needs cock first.”
The fifth knotting of the day happens as night fully arrives. Slower than the others, exhaustion finally catching up. But still necessary. Still needed. My body won't settle for sleep without being freshly bred, without his seed warm inside me.
